Painting by Joan Polishook
Poem
Left Behind by Joan Polishook
The old road looms before me A steep trail Telling its own story Reminder of youth’s vigor Easily climbing the hill Hiking three miles beyond Today Driving past the old cemetery Tilted terrain Weathered stones Then the pond Where a duck once swam And a dog barked Rustic log cabin Belonging once To someone famous A former boarding house Shabby In its state of disrepair Next Sloping sun drenched field Autumn’s faded grass cut low Strangely unfamiliar Slowing down
Looking for a white clapboard house With the front porch Facing the road Where I often sat On an August afternoon Sipping lemonade with friends Gone Not a trace House shed apple tree mailbox Ghosts living in my inner sight Memories mine ’Round the next bend The pink house is painted grey There is no flower garden The years have not been kind to the old road Desolate dwellings Crying out for attention A forlorn landscape I opt not to go on … The tick of the clock Has tarnished the sheen Of fond memories For a hamlet in the mountains The old road Once familiar Left behind
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